


Of broken men and falling angels

by SR_XX



Category: Supernatural
Genre: IM IN THE UK, IVE ONLY SEEN EP 1 OF SEASON 13, M/M, NOTHING TO DO WITH THE NEW EPS, TAKE MERCY ON MY SOUL
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-04-26 10:20:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14400117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SR_XX/pseuds/SR_XX
Summary: Gabriel is found but very lost- his own mind has betrayed him so many times he cant be sure of anything.





	1. Crucified sitting

**Author's Note:**

> Woah boy has it been a long time since I last posted anything. So I still don't have a beta, if anyone wants to help me that'd be great. I'll hopefully update once a week- depending on the reaction I get.

Wet.

That's all Gabriel could feel.  
That's all Gabriel was allowed to feel- except pain.

Wet ground, wet table, wet hair. 

They had taken his shoes so even his feet, covered in thin grey socks with a red toe and heel, were soaked through. His kidnappers (archangelnappers just didn't have that same ring to it, he decided) had taken his trainers at the scene of the crime, trying to prevent him running and stopping any hassle of having to take them off for showers and torture and such in the future.   
Gabriel was forced into a grisly off white shirt and matching linen trousers. The clothes offered little protection from the cells harsh cold.   
He had told the attackers before that the bloodstains really ruined the whole 18th century aristocrat heading to bed and asking his wife to lay down and think of england look- his way of subtly asking for a shower when the matted hair, thick with blood, was joined by spit from the guard he had spoken to.

"Why the malice fellas?" he laughed coldly as the door slammed shut, leaving him with his thoughts once again. And really it wasn't that bad.  
Except when it was. 

The room seemed to feed on him, stripping him of grace and dignity- but it gave back. Fed him hallucinations or maybe nightmares.   
Sadistic, twisted nightmares, or maybe hallucinations of his brothers chained to a table, soaking, red blood and curls of grace streaked throughout the outfit; you couldn't tell where the blood transitioned into dark hair.

Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazaar, Castiel. Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazaar, Castiel. Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazaar, Castiel. Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazaar, Castiel. Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazaar, Castiel. Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazaar, Castiel. Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazaar, Castiel. Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazaar, Castiel. Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazaar, Castiel. Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazaar, Castiel. Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazaar, Castiel. Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazaar, Castiel. Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazaar, Castiel. Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazaar, Castiel. Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazaar, Castiel. Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazaar, Castiel. 

It had been the day he pretended to sleep earlier than normal that he realised the mirror started on the left side of the room dead ahead of him and spread across to the right. His two wrists handcuffed to damp metal table, body strapped to a chair in menacing charcoal belts cutting into his skin like razors, like something from Saw.   
Father. Gabriel couldn't stand horror movies- the humans desperate need for adrenaline and fear and excuses to hold each others hands bored him.   
Maybe that's why he seemed to be forced to be living one. 

"Come on dad," the archangel choked out through grit teeth, a desperate grin plastered over his face, "just this once, choose us. Choose your children, choose me."

He sighed as his vision started to ebb, he could almost imagine it- his body slumping forwards against the table one last time as the camera panned out on whatever second rate action film he had not been informed he was filming- six golden wings nailed to wall behind him the on,y thing holding him up.  
A crown of roses sat on his head- sharp thorns for a sharp wit. 

Castiel was safe, that he could assure himself, he may be the youngest archangel but he had never been the youngest of heaven. The fledgling he raised was okay, protected and protecting, he chuckled quietly as a soft edged, rose tinted memory tinted his vision. Castiel had the Winchesters.

Something dragged him back to reality for longer than he deserved. It was a soft tinkling of glass, then a bang so loud that if it hadn't been followed by howls of pain and a sickening sweet smell, he was sure he would have been deafened.   
Gabriel couldn't bring himself to care anyway- the memory had returned.

~His baby brother, five or six at most, with inky black hair and inkier feathers a mess, ocean blue eyes scanning his face, head cocked to the side.   
"Youre scared Gabbie, why?" Castiel asked, damn kid was always too perceptive for his own good.   
"Well my little crow," Gabriel smiled sadly, "I think I'm dying, and I'm worried about what's waiting for me."  
The little boy seemed to light up at this informations, hands reaching out for his brother. "That's okay Gabbie, cause Michael says when we die it means we achieved our purpose."   
For a second Gabriel was filled with rage at the lesson drilled into them all. How dare Michael say that to his baby brother? Castiel was his to protect and love, how could he already be primed for his own death?  
"No baby bro, we have to fight okay? We always have to fight to live okay? Dad has sons to follow his instructions-"~

Searing pain cut into his wings and wrists before stopping abruptly. The memory was cut off, the entire world plunging into darkness. 

Or maybe just Gabriel's. He wouldn't open his eyes, wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

"He needs us to be his rebels," a gruff voice filled his ears, and two strong arms pulled him away.


	2. Resurrected for who?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel was found, but he has questions. He just doesn't get the answers he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating weekly (hopefully)

Soft leather was Gabriel's first warning.

The captors had done a lot of things to him but none had involved him laying out on soft leather, it also didn't involve voices. The people who hurt him were always silent- entertainment was far too much for the little archangel to ask. 

He slowly opened his eyes, looking out through thick lashes, crusted with dried tears; wait, when had he cried?   
Gabriel shook it off and slowly tilted his head up, the window showed green trees zooming past him. He shook his head slowly, each movement feeling like he was actually moving his brain.  
He was in a car! Of course, the voices were emanating from a phone attached to the dashboard.  
A black blur of wings shot past the window.  
"Castiel!" he yelled, sitting up and screaming as something ripped through his side that wasn't just the searing agony. The car jerked to a stop and he slammed into the seat infront of him, the voices on the other end of the phone had gone silent.   
"Kid. Seatbelts, if you want to kill me yourself you're gonna have to use seatbelts." He groaned over the choked out pain.

"Yeah well, we couldnt lay you down with the seatbelts on." Snarked back a voice that made Gabriel's eyes snap open faster than he should have, seeing as the world tipped dangerously far right. 

"Sam Winchester?" He laughed, letting his head fall back and pressing a hand to the wound he presumed had been stitched shut considering it was bleeding fresh blood.  
"Well this is great, out of the furnace into the flames. Not very noble of you Winchesters though. You guys always seem to preach your chiva-"

"Gabriel stop." Sam frowned, turning back from the drivers seat, before cursing under his breath and pulling over. "I'll call you two back, meet you at the bunker." He nodded at the phone before hanging up.  
He stormed out of the drivers seat and around to the door of the backseats. The man yanked it open slowly crouched down so he was level with Gabriels stomach.

He reached out carefully but stopped before he touched,   
"I sewed you up before we left," Sam whispered, "I want to protect you Gabriel."  
The archangel swallowed and nodded slowly, two swift downward jerks of his head.

Sam used feather light touches to pull the fresh shirt off Gabriel's torso and throwing it into the passenger seat and reaching for the medical kit.  
"This isnt the impala," Gabriel frowned, gesturing vaguely at the car.  
The hunter had taken to bandaging around the archangels middle, he snorted out a laugh at the observation. "Well i guess your eyesights okay." He then added in explanation; "Dean didn't like the idea of scraping blood off of his seats." He hummed standing up and walked to the boot, grabbing a black shirt and wincing as he handed it to Gabriel. 

"Cas magicked your wings away but he couldn't do much more in the room- he said it was hurting him. So he's gonna help when we get back to the bunker."  Sam frowned, only just resisting running a hand down the archangels prominent ribs.

After Gabriel shrugged the shirt on, he glared at Sam.   
"Is this yours by any chance?" He chuckled grimly and pushed a hand through his hair, practically swimming in the shirt.  
"it's all we have left," Sam laughed in return, leaning against the car door. "We should get moving again, just don't move too much, okay?"

"Wait!" Gabriel yelled as Sam went to shut the door, "Cassie- is he- is he okay?" the archangel frowned, worry lines creasing his forehead.  
"He's fine, infact he's the one who insisted we rescue you as soon as he picked up a trail," Sam nodded, a small smile on his lips, "he's worried about his big brother." He chuckled, inclining his head towards Gabriel, "but he's okay."  
Then the hunter turned around and crawled back into the drivers seat, letting Gabriel buckle up before setting off.

Gabriel didn't speak for most of the trip. He could feel a tiredness in him, all the way through his bones and wings and mind. The archangel wished, in a sick, broken way, that Castiel would have left him behind. That for once it wasn't his turn to fight and stay strong and do the right thing. Why wasn't he ever allowed to be selfish? He was so tired. Why couldn't he just sleep? All he wanted was to close his eyes and not have to open them again, fix the eternal tiredness in him. 

Everyone else was allowed to be selfish; Michael was allowed a family, Lucifer allowed to run away, Raphael was allowed to choose their career, Balthazaar was allowed to party and laugh and Castiel- sweet, baby, Castiel was allowed to raise him back from the brink of death.

At the end of the day, who was Gabriel resurrected for? Because he was certain no one did it for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY ED BALLS DAY.  
> Come talk to me @helloimthetrickster
> 
> Love you guys, enjoy.
> 
> -LA  
> xx


	3. Someone else's bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy is this chapter short as heck. Sorry dudes.

He must have fallen asleep. That would explain the pounding headache. Another one of Balthazaar's "classy" parties that had resolved to body shots and strip poker.   
And then he remembered the torture and the winchester and he was panting and why was the floor so close to him?  
Although the archangel was in his underwear which was so not the thing to be focusing on because it felt like his skin was slowly being peeled of his body with a white hot needle.

Nothing would stop. 

Why was he on the floor? Where the fuck was he? He couldnt think or breathe or move properly. His eyes couldn't adjust to the dark of the room but he managed to stumble his way to a doorknob. Gabriel fell through and into a well lit hallway.   
He couldn't bring himself to care that he seemed like a child and was only wearing a pair of checked blue bo- these were not his boxers the archangel suddenly realised, stopping to pant against the wall.

He could feel grace, calling him, it was soft and calm and he needed it so badly. It felt like home and tendrils of it reached out to him as he approached a bedroom. Without thinking, Gabriel pulled the handle and jerked the door open hard.

Gabriel croaked out a whimper and fell onto the bed, it was empty and cold but smelled so familiar and grace lingered on it from its last inhabitant. If only he could clear his head long enough to figure out who it was.

He did know he should be embarrassed that he had crawled into someone else's bed in desperate need of comfort but he wasn't- this was one of his brothers. 

It wasn't a sexual thing, father no. It was just, Gabriel's grace was so completely destroyed and mangled that, like wing grooming, it latched onto the closest angelic  bond he had and surrounded itself in it.

Oh fuck, his wings. Gabriel knew they were spread out across so many universes  They were hidden away, one of his brothers had done that, but he could feel them- each molecule of all six, golden, limbs screamed out to something for help, burning as if they were stars themselves, burning infinitely. 

One of his brothers, Castiel! He suddenly jerked but he couldn't even muster the energy to stand up. He just sat on the edge of the plain little bed before collapsing back into it. 

The archangel was aware he was on the verge of passing out, or throwing up, or both. Then a fuzzy light filled his peripheral vision and someone called out a distant "In here," at the moment, however, all Gabriel could process was that it wasn't Castiel.

 Strands of blue grace, only visible to the archangel started to snare him so he let it, gurgling a faint whimper or plead to let him stay.  

Someone was there, reassuring him he wasnt going anywhere. Maybe it was the weight of passing out or maybe it was the hand he felt, run down his hair that finally lulled him to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooooo  
> Waddup  
> It is 52 mins into my Saturday. I am so tired. Help
> 
> -LA  
> XX

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is @helloimthetrickster
> 
> Love you guys 
> 
> LA_XX


End file.
